


Hara Máriessë Mi Mandos

by KayleeArafinwiel



Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On [8]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:30:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/KayleeArafinwiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's S.R. 1406 (T.A. 3006), and at a loved one's funeral, Frodo Baggins and cousin Daisy comfort each other. Meanwhile, on the other side...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hara Máriessë Mi Mandos

**Author's Note:**

> Shout outs to C.S. Lewis,

It was four o’clock when the ceremony was over and the carriages began to arrive.

Daisy stared straight ahead, numb with grief, as the coach-hobbit tried to coax her to her carriage. She felt her cousin’s eyes on her before she turned to see him.

“She was always good to us, wasn’t she, Frodo?”

Frodo smiled, blinking back his own tears. “Always, Daisy,” he agreed softly. “She never had an unkind word for anyone – a sharp one maybe, but never unkindly meant.”

“It wouldn’t have been proper,” Daisy said, with a tearful little laugh. “Do you know, she was going to come to Tosto’s birthday party next week.”

Frodo nodded soberly. “He’ll be five,” Frodo said quietly. “Leaving _faunthood_ already. It’s hard to believe he’s grown so fast!”

“It’s not so hard to believe when you’re about all the time to see him grow,” Daisy said softly. “She adored him. He called her ‘Grandmum’.” She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief Frodo gave her. “If only she hadn’t been taken so soon…”  

“I know,” Frodo replied, looking soberly at their aunt’s body lying in state before them. He caressed her wrinkled cheek. “Hara máriessë mi Mandos,” he whispered, and Daisy looked strangely at Frodo.

“What does that mean?” she asked as they left the hole together. Quietly, Frodo explained, hoping with all his heart that his wish would have effect.  _Stay in happiness in Mandos._

 

***

 

She Hadn’t Expected to feel like this.

When she’d gone to Bed, her bones had been Weary, and her muscles Ached. The Last Thing she’d Considered was whether Daisy would find the stuffed _Oliphaunt_ Frodo had convinced her would make a fine gift for little Tosto. Why Not, she had thought. It Wasn’t Every Day one turned Five. The _Oliphaunt_ was in the mathom room at Bag End, a trinket of Bilbo’s if memory served, that he had given to Frodo once upon a time. It was a proper Heirloom, and not an Ostentatious New Present.

So she hadn’t expected to waken refreshed, feeling younger than she had in many years, and with little Tosto’s _oliphaunt_ being the least of her concerns. The greatest was, she supposed – Where Was This? For this Certainly Was Not her cosy hole, nor her bed in Bag End or Any Other Smial she’d been accustomed to stay in. No, she’d wakened Outside – and when was the last time she’d fallen asleep Outside? It certainly wasn’t Proper! As though she were having an Adventure of all things! She shuddered at the Very Idea!

Taking stock of her Surroundings, Dora realised she was seated in a Meadow. It looked like the Party Field, somewhat, save there was No Tree. She began Walking – and when was the Last Time she did that without Pain? She wondered at that…and soon Found Herself in Company with a Great Number of other Hobbits. The most Delicious Scents penetrated the Air, and she spotted the Source – long Tables laden with Food! Had she Missed First Breakfast? It was Odd, but in This Place she could Not Judge the Time Correctly. So she Caught the Attention of a passing Hobbit Lad – and he was a Stranger, though Peculiarly Familiar.

“Miss Dora Baggins at your Service,” she said courteously. He flashed her a Smile.

“Master Fosco Baggins at yours,” he replied. “That’s young Fosco, Auntie – I’m one of Frodo’s brothers, you see.”

Dora paused. She recalled that Drogo and Primula had wanted to name one of their lads Fosco after his grandfather, but the lad had died soon after birth, before the Naming Day. “Fosco?”

As if the word had conjured him, her father materialized out of the crowd, carrying a plate.

“So you have got here at last, Dora!” He kissed her cheek, and she regarded him in wonder. He looked hale and hearty, as she remembered him when she was a little lass, and not at all as he had looked when he…The feeling of _Something Wrong_ intensified.

“Father?” She accepted the plate he gave her, laden with her favourite foods, and allowed him to lead her to a bench. Her mother, Ruby Bolger Baggins – as fresh and young as she had been when Dudo had been a little lad – waited there, and greeted her with a kiss. “Mother?”

“Dora,” Ruby said warmly. “Welcome home, our beloved lass.” She looked deep into Dora’s eyes. “You have raised your family wisely and well, Dora – looked after Frodo and Daisy, and little Tosto, for they were as much yours as Drogo and Dudo’s, so very well. We are proud of you. We are _all_ proud of you.” And then Drogo was there – yes, and Primula – offering their own welcomes.

“Dearest Dora,” her brother whispered. “Thank you. Frodo did well with Bilbo, but he needed a mother in Hobbiton just as much as in Buckland. You did so well with him, Dora – and with Daisy. Dudo will tell you so too, when he comes. He won’t be long. You’ll barely notice. Time means little here.”

“But where…is here?” Dora asked. The _Something Wrong_ was pricking at her, and though she dimly realised what _must_ be going on, some part of her still cried out against it.

“This is the _real_ Shire,” Primula said. “The one we knew – the _other_ one, it was just a copy, a…a shadow, if you understand.”

Dora knew one thing; she was becoming More Confused by the Second. No, she did not at all Understand.

“The term is over, the holidays have begun,” Drogo said, making Dora think of the Lithedays and Yuledays of their childhoods, when lessons were set aside and they could do as they liked – so long as it was Proper, of course.

“The dream is ended. This is the morning,” Fosco – the elder, that is, her Father – chimed in, holding his namesake grandson to his side.

As Dora Baggins was drawn further up and further in, enveloped in the love of her reunited family, she felt Bilbo and Frodo’s Elves might just have been on to something. Behind her, she thought she heard a lament, clear and sad…Frodo’s voice.

But perhaps it was only an echo.


End file.
